Clack! Clack! Clack!

The sharp crack of wooden swords echoed through the quiet forest. Perched on a sturdy tree branch, Reed sat cross-legged, his eyes fixed on the sparring match below. In his lap rested a crumpled scrap of parchment, its edges smudged with dirt. He scribbled quickly with a battered pencil, glancing up now and then to observe the fighters.

Above him, his sister Jade lounged against the trunk, her long legs dangling carelessly over the branch. She yawned, brushing a stray leaf from her tunic.

"What do you think of his technique, Reed?"

Reed paused mid-sentence, his pencil hovering over the paper. He glanced at her briefly before returning to his notes.

"It's not very powerful," he murmured. "But it's efficient. His movements are precise, and the style suits his smaller frame."

Jade smirked, crossing her arms. "Since when did you care about swordsmanship?"

Reed shrugged, closing his notebook for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe it's a new interest."

Jade crouched on her branch, leaning closer. Her teasing tone softened, replaced by genuine concern.

"Reed, I'm your sister. I know you better than anyone. You've always dreamed of becoming a scholar, not a fighter. You're not cut out for swinging swords around."

Her words hung in the air like a challenge. Reed didn't reply immediately. He simply stared at the sparring match below, his hands tightening around his notebook. Jade tilted her head, studying him, then sighed and pressed on.

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"Why don't you ask Dad to teach you? He's a hunter. If you're so interested in fighting, he'd be happy to train you."

Reed's grip slackened, and he looked down at his feet. His voice was barely audible.

"It's fine. I don't want to bother him. I'm not trying to fight. I just want to understand it."

Jade frowned but didn't push. Instead, she patted his shoulder lightly. "Don't be silly. You're not a burden, Reed. You should talk to him. Anyway, I need to get back and help Mom with dinner. You coming?"

"No," Reed replied softly. "Not yet."

Jade gave him one last searching look, then stood and stretched. "Suit yourself. Just don't stay out too long, okay?"

"Okay," he murmured.

And then he was alone.

Reed rested his head on his knees, hugging them close as the sparring match below drew to a close. The fighters exchanged a few words, laughed, and walked off, their wooden swords resting on their shoulders.

As the forest grew quiet, Reed stared at the empty clearing.

***

The warmth of the makeshift fireplace filled the small room, its flickering light casting shadows on the walls. The family of four sat on the cold, uneven floor, their meal spread out on a wooden crate that doubled as a table. The air smelled of mutton stew, rich and savory, steaming in chipped bowls alongside chunks of crusty bread.

"I heard they finally found an artifact for Cassie!" Reed's mother exclaimed, her voice bright with relief as she handed Jade a bowl.

"What grade did she get?" asked his father, already tearing into his bread.

"A D-grade," his mother replied, shaking her head. "And it cost them 10 whole silver."

Reed's father let out a low whistle. "10 Silver? For a D-grade artifact?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Haih. This world's no place for the poor." He glanced at Jade and Reed, his voice softening. "Thank the lord neither of you is marked."

Without warning, he pulled both children into a bear hug, his large arms wrapping around their shoulders.

"Dad! Ew!" Jade squealed, wriggling free. "You're so sweaty!" She scooted back, glaring playfully at him as she adjusted her tunic.

Reed chuckled, unable to hold back a smile at his sister's over-the-top disgust. His father grinned, his laughter rumbling deep and warm. Soon, their mother joined in, shaking her head at their antics as she stirred the stew.

The laughter swelled, filling the room with a rare and fleeting joy. For a moment, the weight of their struggles seemed lighter, the cold outside a distant memory.

But Reed's smile faltered as he looked around at their faces. His chest tightened. He clutched the bowl in his hands, willing himself to stay present, to savor this moment.

One last night.

He forced the thought away and let the laughter carry him, holding onto the warmth for as long as he could.